Call of DutyGhosts: The Desert Tigers
by Streifen0-1
Summary: After the horrific incident known as 'The Event', General 'Blackjack' Erwin finds himself embroiled in a dirty war along the U.S.-Mexico border in the Southwest. His weapon of choice is the men of AFO Tiger-7. The enemy knows them as 'The Desert Tigers'...
1. FUBAR

**Call of Duty: Ghosts**

**The Desert Tigers**

By Streifen 0-1

**Author's Note: **This is a work of fiction solely for the COD community to enjoy and all rights belong to both Activision and Infinity Ward. I am neither an employee of said aforementioned companies nor am I receiving any compensation for this story. Please read 'n review, ok? NO flames, alright? …otherwise Enjoy!

**Military Assistance Command-Southwest Operations Group One/ AZ**

**Tactical Operations Center/ Site M /Montezuma Castle**

**0600HRS. / 1****st**** December 2013**

Major General 'Blackjack' Erwin strode into Site M's TOC with a furious scowl. Junior officers and civilian aides scurried out of his way knowing that whoever was going to be on the receiving end of his infamous temper just might need medical attention five floors down in the infirmary. They also took note of his blued-finished .45 Colt Gunsite C.C.O pistol in its Galco shoulder holster. After receiving an ass-chewing from him, the poor sonouvabitch would literally be begging to end his life with a 230-grain hollow-point to the 'ol brain-pan. More than one career had been ended during General Erwin's command here at Site M.

He raised his shiny size 10 Corcoran jump boot and kicked the door of the main conference room right off its hinges. The heavy door fell with a thunderous crash as several officers quickly came to attention. He grabbed the nearest LCD flat-screen monitor then tossed it through an XProtect Smart Wall display. Glass tinkled from the impact. Many of those present started experiencing an extreme contraction of their sphincters. 

"Can any of you piss-poor excuses for officer material explain to me why the HELL we authorized a reconnaissance-in-force along the I-10 using the LEAST experienced troops from the 2nd IBCT/101st? Anyone care to enlighten me?"

The 2nd Infantry Brigade Combat Team was from the famed 101st 'Screaming Eagles' Air Assault Division. They primarily were a scout unit who provided timely intelligence to a higher command. General Erwin glared at the assembled officers who either looked down at their shoes or studiously avoided attracting his ire. The general growled with disgust then lit a Macanudo Cru Royale with a Zippo lighter bearing the old 12th Special Forces Group flash. He took a couple of deep puffs from his cigar and was about to continue his tirade when a frail-looking major stepped forward with a Panasonic Toughpad FZ-G1 who held the device towards the general. The major had his nose wrinkled in response to the strong aroma of the cigar. General Erwin beamed a feral grin at his least favorite subordinate, Major Chester Huggins. _What did this limp-dick, numb-nuts piece of dog crap do now? _The fiery commander of Site M took the Toughpad from the major who suddenly had a coughing fit. Erwin blew another cloud into the major's face as he took possession of the Toughpad.

Major Huggins cleared his throat before speaking, "May I remind the general that this is a non-smoking area and that there has been a ban on smoking within all government facilities since the early 2000s?" The rest of the assembled staff looked on with wide-eyed shock. Silence filled the conference room. One could actually hear the hum of the central air system that serviced the base.

General John Ryan Erwin ran one hand through his short, steel-grey hair. In two swift strides, he grabbed the front of Major Huggins's Class A dress blue uniform and slammed the smart-mouthed staff officer onto the mahogany conference table. Filled with indignant fury, the MACSOG-1 commander smacked Huggins upside the head with the Toughpad. A satellite reconnaissance map of the city of Phoenix and its immediate environs was still on display. It showed the location of both friendly and enemy units. The 2nd/101st icon was surrounded by numerous red ones with the FEDERATION identifier.

"Huggins, unless you have a constellation of stars on your shoulder boards, you can keep your pie-hole shut while the rest of us get to work on how we can get those Screaming Eagles out of harm's way. For an intelligence officer, you sure as hell don't display ANY common sense. Besides, after The Event thirty days ago, the country doesn't give a rat's ass about political correctness. All the liberals got vaporized when the first wave of kinetic strikes hit Capitol Hill and Foggy Bottom." Erwin took another puff of his cigar as he studied the map on the Toughpad's display. He tapped in several commands then tossed the device into a startled lieutenant's hands.

"Fuller, get Groom Lake on the horn and see if they can lend us some fast-movers. First choice is a squadron of F-15 Eagles or a couple of A-10 Warthogs. I'd even settle for an AC-130 Spectre, Spooky II, Ghostrider, or Stinger II gunship. Tell Aerospace Weapons Command I need those birds wheels up right now this minute. Use my Tier-1 priority code Alpha-Two-Six-Zero-Zero-Umbra-Bravo." He dismissed the lieutenant with a wave of his cigar. The younger officer scrambled out of the conference room as if his scrawny ass was on fire.

General Erwin flicked on the Samsung SUR120 smart-table and transferred the Toughpad's map onto its monitor. He typed in several more commands using the SUR120's touchscreen. He raised his head towards another staff officer. Erwin searched for the other man's nameplate. It read 'Jackson'. The general saw that the other man's branch insignia was the crossed rifles of the infantry. He grinned for the first time that morning. His grin spread even wider when he saw the CIB pinned on the captain's blue coat. Captain Jackson would know what ground units would be available to reinforce the 101st in a hurry.

"Captain Jackson, you look like an educated man. Which units would you recommend to roll in hot to support the Screaming Eagles?" Finishing his cigar, General Erwin flicked ash onto the inert form of Major Huggins. He'd deal with the insubordinate officer later. The MPs had their hand full dealing with the refugees from Phoenix who made their way north to Flagstaff trying to escape from the invading Federation forces. The refugees were beginning to strain Site M's limited resources.

"There's the Regimental Reconnaissance Company Team 2/75th Infantry that can move up State Route 85 then reinforce the 101st from the west on Baseline Road. We can also helo in the Rangers from the Quick Reaction Force. They're stationed at the Joint Forces Base at Pinnacle Peak. Finally, here's the best option if you really want to hammer those Federation bastards surrounding the 101st: AFO Tiger-7 based out of FOB Cochise. They're the killer elite here in MACSOG-1. If anyone can rescue those troops, it's Tiger-7." Captain Jackson stood up straight after highlighting the units on the Samsung SUR120 smart-table.

General 'Blackjack' Erwin poured a liberal amount of Maker's Mark whisky into two shot glasses then handed one to Captain Jackson. He saluted the captain with his glass then gulped down the bourbon. The commander of Site M took one last, long look at the Samsung's display before he spoke again.

"All right, captain. Let's roll the dice. AFO Tiger-7 has the lead with the Rangers in support. Inform all units that they are weapons-free. If they have someone in their sights who's not wearing our uniform or flying Old Glory then send 'em on to God. Preferably in a very loud, oh so violent manner. Let's bring our people home."

TO BE CONTINUED…


	2. BOHICA

**Route Thunderbird (I-10 corridor)**

**Mile Marker 38 on the northern edge of the Phoenix city limits**

**2****nd**** Scout Platoon/ 2****nd**** Infantry Brigade Combat Team/ 101****st**** Air Assault Division**

**0615 HRS/ 1****st**** December 2013**

"RPG! RPG! Take cover!"

2nd Lieutenant Sabrina 'Bad Attitude' Aquino slid behind the wreckage of a Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicle just as a 40mm OG-7V anti-personnel rocket slammed into pavement in front of her. The explosion threw up a fountain of dust and debris that clouded the air for a few seconds. The staccato report of heavy machine-gun fire echoed throughout the city. Lines of orange tracers crisscrossed through the oily smoke that came from several hundred burning fires. The sharp tang of gunpowder filled the nostrils of the twenty-something Filipina-American infantry officer. For the umpteenth time today, she wondered if she should have transferred into a less hazardous branch… like the Army Band. Yet Lt. Aquino knew that no matter what, regardless of what the sexist brass back at HQ thought, her place was on the battlefield. She was a warrior-princess; it was in her family's blood.

Earlier that morning she had been tasked by Major Huggins, MACSOG-1's S-2 (intelligence officer), with a simple route reconnaissance mission that turned into a major clusterf***k. The initial estimates of enemy forces operating in the Phoenix-Mesa-Gilbert areas were totally off. She should have checked the original threat assessment with another independent source such as Homeland Security or the Army's ISA. Now her scout platoon was caught in a meat grinder as a hail of 60mm mortar shells and PK 7.62x54mm machine-gun pelted them as they hunkered down behind whatever cover they could find. This was not a great start for a young officer like herself. She extended a collapsible periscope to check where the enemy was. Noting where the muzzle flashes were originating from, Lt. Aquino called for her RTO.

Private Jenkins, a baby-faced soldier who hailed from Oklahoma City, scrambled on all fours to her position. He carried a M16A4 assault rifle in one hand and an AN/PRC-117 Multi-band Manpack Radio in the other. He quickly assembled the SATCOM antenna and spot-checked the transceiver. Once Pvt. Jenkins was finished, he shouldered his M16 and triggered a three-shot burst that knocked down a Federation infantryman who was about to toss a RGN frag grenade at their position. The grenade went off as it fell from the dead man's hand taking two more enemy soldiers with him. Lt. Aquino flashed him a smile as she spoke into the PRC-117's handset.

"Striker Two-Six to Hardcastle. Am in contact with enemy forces north of Phoenix at Mile Marker 38 on the I-10. Grid reference is 774136. Estimate brigade or battalion-sized element. Requesting immediate extraction. Over."

While she held the radio's handset in one hand, the scout platoon leader pulled her M9A1 Beretta pistol and shot an enemy in the head charging at her. The first 9mm Parabellum round pierced the right eyeball and blew out the back of the man's skull. The second one punched through the enemy's torso dropping him in his tracks. Behind him several more Federation troops were 'leap-frogging' from cover to cover as they advanced on the trapped Screaming Eagles. Her troopers returned fire with M16 assault rifles, the Mk14 Enhanced Battle Rifle, M249 SAWs, and two M60E4 machine-guns positioned so that the enemy couldn't flank them. Lieutenant Aquino couldn't help but remember places like Bastogne and Sperwan Ghar from the 101st's long history. She just hoped that her story wouldn't end like Custer's at Little Big Horn. The Screaming Eagles seemed to find themselves in more last-stand battles than any other infantry division.

"Hardcastle to Striker Two-Six, be advised that all available air assets are currently engaged at this time. Recommend that you shelter in place. Reinforcements are enroute to your position. ETA is thirty mikes. Over."

Pvt. Jenkins and several other scouts grimaced at the response that squawked over the radio. Lt. Aquino cursed under her breath as she fired off more rounds with her pistol. She could see that the Federation had surrounded them on all sides.

This fight just might be over in thirty seconds. She made a promise to attend Mass more often if she made it out of this firefight alive. As she made this promise to herself, Lt. Aquino kissed the Saint Joan of Arc medallion that hung alongside her dog tags. Pvt. Jenkins made the sign of the cross since he too was Catholic and knew well his platoon leader's habits. She took up the radio's handset once again.

"Acknowledged, Hardcastle. Striker Two-Six out." Lt. Aquino switched channels on the PRC-117. "Striker Two-Six to Pax River, fire mission, over."

"Pax River here, go ahead with fire mission Striker Two-Six."

The platoon commander shouldered her M4 carbine and laid down suppressive fire with the rest of her troops. The handset was cradled between her ear and shoulder. Federation soldiers were massing for yet another assault. Two of her soldiers were ripped apart by machine-gun fire as 7.62x54mm projectiles tore through body armor and flesh. She swapped magazines as she continued to call for artillery support.

"Pax River, grid co-ordinates 774136. Enemy troops in the open, battalion strength. Danger Close. Over." She pulled a M67 frag grenade, cooked it, then tossed it over a mound of debris. Seconds later she heard the satisfying WHUMP! and saw the flying bodies of the enemy being shredded by shrapnel. Yet the Federation forces still kept coming…

"Roger that, Striker Two-Six. Grid 774136, danger close. Shot over."

The whistling of 105mm artillery shells as they flew overhead drowned out the chaos of the battlefield as both American and Federation forces continued the fight. She glanced at her black MTM Hypertec watch. It read 0630 HRS. In the next twenty minutes, her unit's survival would be decided. Lt. Aquino laid out her weapons: a M4A1 with an attached M320 grenade launcher. Two 40mm HE rounds for the GL. Eight magazines of 5.56mm 77-grain Sierra Matchking Hollow-point ammo. Her Beretta M9A1 and two mags of standard M882 ball ammo. Finally, she flicked open her Benchmade Morpho bali-song knife. It was time to show the Federation what it meant to be American…

TO BE CONTINUED…


	3. FRICTION

**MACSOG-1/ AZ/ Site M**

**Tactical Operations Center /Montezuma Castle**

**0705 HRS/ 1****st**** December 2013**

For over an hour, both Maj. General 'Blackjack' Erwin and Captain Thaddeus Jackson watched the various monitors streaming live aerial feeds from an orbiting MQ-1 Predator. They took note of the updated positions of the relief forces from Joint Forces Base Pinnacle Peak, the Regimental Reconnaissance Team 2 (Rangers), and AFO Tiger-7. The Blue Force tracking software worked overtime keeping up with the shifting movements of the engaged units. According to the analysts frantically working in the surrounding cubicles, the invading Federation forces were tentatively identified as elements of the Venezuelan Army. Specifically the 11th Armored and 13th Infantry Brigades who were last seen operating in the southeast near San Tan Valley. Both units were allegedly involved in looting and mass murder. Several hundred refugees fleeing from Phoenix had been debriefed by his intelligence staff and all told a chilling tale that sickened even the most hardened veterans in MACSOG-1. These accounts were given further credence when a team of Special Deputy U.S. Marshals arrived at Site M escorting Governor Julie Brewster to safety after the Federation launched a surprise airborne assault on CONUS that seized territory west from Los Angeles all the way to Jacksonville, Florida. The U.S. Armed Forces, both active and reserve, were fighting coast-to-coast along Interstate 10. Overseas, American units were being recalled by JSOC. Those located in allied nations left their posts without any problems.

Others in contested or hostile nations were fighting every inch of the way back home. Hardest hit were those units still remaining in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Even the squadrons of Maritime Prepositioning Ships were being recalled with their precious cargo of ammunition, equipment, and supplies. For the first time since the War of Independence in 1775, America was facing an enemy on its home soil. And it was up to senior officers like General 'Blackjack' Erwin to ensure the Republic's survival.

The general had a cup of coffee in one hand and a Panasonic Toughpad in the other. He took a sip of the excellent Jamaica Blue Mountain blend then called out to a passing specialist.

"Anders! Any word from Tiger-7 or the Quick Reaction Force?"

The blonde technician looked down at her own Panasonic Toughpad and checked through the comms logs. She shook her head no.

"Ok. Give me a heads-up when Tiger-7 arrives on-site." General Erwin typed in a few more commands into his tablet and strode over to where Captain Jackson was updating the status board on the Samsung SUR120 smart-table. The junior officer was reviewing the last communication between Pax River and Striker Two-Six. The captain looked up as General Erwin approached. Jackson slid his fingers along the bottom of the smart-table's touchscreen and transferred his report to Erwin's Toughpad.

"So what am I looking at? It can't be good news otherwise we'd be breaking out the Gentleman Jack's."

Captain Jackson rubbed his forehead. "No, it isn't sir. Those Screaming Eagles put up a helluva fight but the Federation's 13th Infantry had the numbers. Striker Two-Six even called in artillery fire on her own position which took out a company of enemy troops and a couple of Type 63 tanks. However, that platoon was decimated by the 13th Infantry. Out of forty soldiers, only eleven survived and they've been taken prisoner."

Erwin grimaced at this new development. He really needed a beer.

**Federation Internment Camp #2**

**75****th**** & Baseline Rd/ Fry's Food parking lot/ Mountain Park Plaza**

**0715 HRS/ 1****st**** December 2013**

Lt. Aquino, battered and bruised, staggered towards the latrine assisted by Pvt. Jenkins and Cpl. Hicks. All three had been wounded earlier as they fought off the Federation's 13th Infantry. They had their wounds tended to by paramedics from the Phoenix Fire Department who were prisoners too. The mall's parking lot was now sealed off with diamond-mesh fence topped with razor wire. Guard towers with 7.62mm M60 machine-guns were manned by serious looking troops. Both Pvt. Jenkins and Cpl. Hicks turned their backs to give their platoon leader a modicum of privacy as she used the loo. When she was finished, the soldiers helped her back to the tent where the rest of the scouts were.

"Would you like some water LT?" asked Pvt. Jenkins.

The exhausted officer shook her head no. She wasn't thirsty and if she was it would be for something a helluva lot stronger. In her mind she relived the battle a million times and she couldn't find a single thing she could have done any differently. The Federation had the numbers and her platoon didn't. At the very least, she thought to herself, we took as many of them as we could. Now we'll see what our captors have in store for us.

As her men were talking amongst themselves, a pair of guards dressed in olive-drab fatigues and armed with 7.62x51mm FN FAL assault rifles strode into the tent. They took up positions on either side of the opening as an officer quickly stepped through and surveyed the prisoners. Lt. Aquino noticed the man's shoulder boards. It marked the man as a major.

The major made a short bow towards his captives. He wore a black beret and his eyes were hidden behind mirror-lensed Ray-Ban aviators. His khaki uniform was clean and bore a variety of ribbons and qualification badges. You could see your own reflection in his spit-shined boots. His name tag read 'Reyes'. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile.

"Allow me to welcome you to your new home, Screaming Eagles. I am Major Reyes, 13th Federation Infantry and the new military governor of this region. You are my prisoners here, Americans, and no one is coming to help you. I want to know the encrypted frequencies you use to communicate with your HQ. If you reveal this information willingly, I can make your stay here very comfortable." Major Reyes beamed another smile.

Lt. Aquino stood up with the assistance of Pvt. Jenkins. Both soldiers looked at the Federation major in the eyes. They smiled at each other as they replied: "I am an American soldier. Under Article 4 of The Third Geneva Convention, I am only required to give you my name, rank, and serial number. And that is ALL I am required to give you…"

Major Reyes chuckled at the remark. "I don't think you appreciate the gravity of your situation, lieutenant. You will reveal to me those encrypted frequencies used by your HQ or there will be serious consequences. Like so…"

In one fluid motion the major drew his Sig-Sauer P226 SCT (Super Capacity Tactical) pistol and killed Specialist Waters, the platoon's designated marksman, with well-placed shots to Waters' heart and head. The .40 S&W Federal Jacketed Hollow-points mangled the specialist's body into so much bloody meat. Shouts of outrage rose from the American soldiers who glared at their Federation captors.

Both guards raised their FN FAL assault rifles in response to the irate prisoners and flicked the selector switch from 'S' to 'F'. Sweat formed underneath their berets as they aimed at the unruly mob. They feared that the major may have pushed the prisoners too far…

Witnessing the brutal murder of their squadmate, several of the survivors surged forward only to be held back by the resolute Lt. Aquino. She shouted over her soldiers' anguished cries while struggling to hold them back from certain death. _We'll get our revenge,_ the lieutenant thought to herself, _just not at this moment. _Pvt. Jenkins helped calm down the remaining survivors but he too was silently vowing that no matter what it took, this Major Reyes wouldn't live to see a conquered America.

It was at this moment that a small, black cylinder rolled among the Federation soldiers. Lt. Aquino, upon recognizing the object, shut her eyes and covered her ears. The M84 stun grenade detonated blinding the enemy with a brilliant white flash of a million-plus candela and concussed them with a loud bang that assaulted their ear-drums with 180-decibels of pure sound. Upon opening her eyes, the lieutenant kicked Major Reyes squarely in the groin and secured his Sig-Sauer automatic. Then, out of spite, she rabbit-punched him behind the ear and knocked the Federation officer out. Major Reyes' eyes rolled up collapsing to the wooden floor.

Behind the guards a black-clad blur appeared wielding a Heckler & Koch HK45 Compact Tactical pistol equipped with an AAC suppressor. Holding the CT pistol in a two-handed Weaver stance, the silent commando executed a Mozambique drill that eliminated the sentries in a quick, efficient manner. _Phut! Phut! Phut! Phut!_ The .45 VBR-AP(armor-piercing) ammunition punched through the guards' body armor and flesh like so much cheap tissue paper. Satisfied that all immediate threats were neutralized, the commando lowered his weapon.

Lieutenant Aquino held the .40 S&W Sig-Sauer P226 pistol loosely at her side. Pvt. Jenkins and another scout quickly stripped the corpses of their rifles and any extra magazines. She heard the intense volume of gunfire and artillery explosions outside the tent. There seemed to be something familiar about the commando standing before her.

His face bore black & white camouflage paint that turned the man's face into a hideous, living skull. Around his head was a black, Apache-style headband. Watching him holster the HK45 Compact Tactical, she took note of the other weapons he carried. A M4 carbine with an under-slung M320 40mm grenade launcher hung from a single-point sling. His modular body armor held numerous Magpul P-mags containing 30-rounds of 77-grain Black Hills ammunition. A Cold Steel Trailmaster Bowie knife sat in a leather sheath on his belt. In his right ear was a Bose Bluetooth transceiver with the new Mil-Spec Digital Secure Radio upgrade. His jacket and trousers were the older U.S. Army Desert Night camo pattern. Danner Rivot TFX green boots completed the operator's attire. She didn't have any idea who he was until he contacted Site M.

"Tiger-7 Actual to Hardcastle. Package is secure. 1 KIA. Ten rescued plus one HVT. Am initiating Assault Plan Zeta 0-3. ETA for exfil is ten mikes over."

She stared at the commando in disbelief. "Uncle Frank?" , she choked out.

Colonel Frank Aquino, commander of AFO Tiger-7 nodded his head and embraced his sobbing niece. He stroked her hair as he issued several more orders over the Digital Secure Radio tacnet. The Federation was in for a rude surprise. OPERATION SUCKERPUNCH had just kicked off. The Battle of Phoenix wasn't over by a longshot.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. EXFIL

**AN: **_I'd like to thank everyone who is following this story, especially those who've also fave'd it. Thanks also to Z-Day, TheShadeOps, and SheldonWASR-10 for the kind reviews and constructive criticism. I appreciate everyone's continued support… so this chapter is dedicated to YOU! Enjoy! (…and PLEASE review at your earliest opportunity…) Streifen 0-1._

**From the desk of Colonel Frank Aquino, U.S. Army/ MACSOG-1; Commanding Officer, AFO Tiger-7 (written two months earlier):**

**Operation SUCKERPUNCH**

In the event of an invasion by conventional, non-nuclear forces occupying the American Southwest, MACSOG-1 will initiate Assault Plan _**ZETA 0-3**_ to stall any further incursion onto American soil.

**Enemy Forces**

The South American Federation for Co-prosperity has shown in the past that they are hostile to American interests and SIGINT has catalogued a number of communiques that indicate a mobilization of SAFC military forces. Zeta 0-3 is contingent on meeting these forces in clear weather and in an urban environment.

Zeta 0-3 is designed to neutralize conventional SAFC airborne, armored, light & mechanized infantry units of up to regimental strength.

MACSOG-1 will utilize a series of airstrikes and artillery fire in co-ordination with regional special-operations forces in find/fix/finish-off engagements to cripple and destroy aforementioned enemy combatants.

**Friendly Forces **

National Command Authority will order the necessary USAF strategic and tactical commands (including Aerospace Weapons & Air Combat) to release bomber, fighter, and fighter-bomber wings to execute pre-approved strike packages. All requested units shall be placed under the command of **MACSOG-1**, specifically the commander of **AFO TIGER-7**, call-sign **'IRON** **FIST'**.

AFO Tiger-7 will direct the following adjacent units as follows: (a) **1****st**** BN**,** 158****th**** INF** (USANG) secures the intersection of south Central Avenue and east Baseline Road. 1BN/158th INF will employ suppressive fire to keep enemy forces from being reinforced. (b) **Troop F, 111****th**** Cav **(USANG) secures the intersection of south 10th Avenue and east Baseline Road. Troop F, 111th Cav's M1202 light tanks and M1206 infantry fighting vehicles will interdict any Federation forces attempting to escape from the kill zone. (c) **Special Boat Team 22 **(USN), using special operations riverine craft, assaults enemy defenses along the city's Western Canal. If necessary, SBT 22 will also be tasked with the extraction of any friendly forces operating within the area. (d) **4****th**** BN, 160****th**** Special Operations Aviation Regiment **is tasked with providing close-air support for AFO Tiger-7 as well as any supporting units…

**Federation Internment Camp #2**

**75****th**** & Baseline Rd. / Fry's Food parking lot/ Mountain Park Plaza**

**0745 HRS/ 1****st**** December 2013**

"Sniper! Second floor, 800 meters."

Colonel Aquino aimed his under-slung M320 grenade launcher and shot a 40mm HE round into the enemy position. Seconds later, the muffled WHUMP! and the sight of rubble exploding outward was witnessed by the surviving Screaming Eagles as they fought their way to the Western Canal. Pvt. Jenkins and Cpl. Hicks burned through one magazine after another as they engaged the enemy with their FN FAL assault rifles.

The 7.62x51mm NATO rounds punched into the soldiers of the Federation's 13th Infantry Brigade as they broke out into the lot. Their bodies jived and jerked as the heavy bullets penetrated flesh. Lieutenant Aquino took an AKS-74U 'Krinkov' carbine off a dead officer as well as a bandoleer of 5.45x39mm, 30-round box magazines. She slipped the bandoleer over her head then helped herself to two RGD-5 hand-grenades. Now that she had a rifle in her hands the lieutenant was more confident in leading the surviving members of her platoon to safety. The .40 S&W Sig-Sauer P226 sat in the small of her back. She continued to direct both Jenkins and Hicks in using suppressive fire to keep the Federation at bay.

A pair of AH-6 'Little Bird' gunships strafed the guard towers with their 30mm chain guns demolishing them in seconds. The towers were reduced to scrap and the sentries torn up beyond all recognition. The pilots unleashed a rocket barrage that demolished the fuel dump. The fireball that rose into the air could be seen for miles around. Colonel Frank Aquino needed to get his niece and the rest of the scouts to the Western Canal for the extraction. It was only a matter of time before Federation reinforcements arrived. He fired off yet another three-round burst that blew out the brains from a sergeant trying to rally his panicking troops. Green and orange tracers crisscrossed as 105mm artillery shells pummeled the Federation 11th Armored's Type-63 light tanks into useless junk. He placed the red-dot sight onto the head of a Federation trooper desperately trying to clear a jam in belt-fed M60 machine-gun. The 5.56mm bullet tore through the gunner's neck which spewed arterial spray onto the ammo bearer next to him. Screaming in shock, the ammo bearer was put out of his misery a few seconds later as a single 5.45x39mm round smacked him in the forehead. Lt. Aquino scanned for additional threats as they moved closer to the canal, her Krinkov's barrel still smoking. Colonel Aquino looked at his SISU Guardian watch. He pumped his fist twice in quick succession. The universal signal for 'Hurry Up!'. It was time to leave. He didn't want to be around for Federation reinforcements. Everyone was low on ammo.

He touched the Bluetooth Mil-Spec DSR transceiver. "IRON FIST to PIRAHNA Two-Zero." He waited a few seconds as the tacnet established a secure channel. The system chirped twice indicating that the comms were now good to go. A gravelly voice answered the colonel's query.

"PIRAHNA Two-Zero to IRON FIST, your signal is five-by-five. Go ahead, over." PIRAHNA Two-Zero was the call-sign for the element from Special Boat Team 22.

Colonel Aquino swapped a fresh mag in his M4 carbine before replying. "I have ten passengers and a prisoner ready for transport. Am moving up to the exfil point now." Noticing yet another squad of Federation troopers attempting to flank them, the commander of AFO Tiger-7 fired off a couple of three-shot bursts in their direction. His niece pulled the pin on a RGD-5 grenade who lobbed it in the direction of the new threat. Seconds later, bodies flew up and over as the Russian made frag grenade exploded. Lt. Aquino triggered another burst from her Krinkov as the U.S. Navy boats came into view.

"Got you and your party in sight, IRON FIST. Stay Frosty. We'll have you all out in no time. PIRAHNA Two-Zero out."

The roar of twin 440-hp Yanmar 6LY2M-STE diesel engines reverberated off the concrete walls that lined both sides of the canal. Lieutenant Aquino and the surviving Screaming Eagles formed a defensive perimeter as they awaited for the arrival of special operations riverine craft. Her uncle and another scout overturned a steel trash dumpster upon which they rested their assault rifles. Pvt. Jenkins and Cpl. Hicks stood watch at the flanks. Colonel Aquino waved his niece over as two of the scouts carried the unconscious Major Reyes whose wrists and ankles were bound with flex-cuffs.

The Delta Force operator pointed to the prone Federation officer. "Take this piece of trash straight away to General Erwin. Major Reyes gets the full-spectrum, enhanced interrogation program. Tell the general I'll take responsibility for this prisoner."

As the boats arrived, U.S. Navy Special Warfare Combatant-craft crewmen jumped out to assist the survivors of the 2nd Scout Platoon, 101st Air Assault Division into the boats. Before Lt. Aquino turned to leave with her men, she reached out and touched her uncle's shoulder. Colonel Aquino finished issuing orders to the boat crews then faced his niece.

"Make it quick, Brina. Still got a lot to accomplish before my meeting with the British Military Liaison Element back at Site M." He finished accepting a canvas bag filled with fully loaded Magpul P-mags from the boat's coxswain. The coxswain also handed over several M61 fragmentation grenades with their familiar olive-drab paint and yellow markings. The colonel wasn't the kind of man who was overly fond of showing affection. The younger lieutenant smirked at him.

"First off, I just wanted to thank you for coming to the aid of myself and my men. And I want to put in for a transfer to FOB Cochise." She stared into the older man's eyes.

Colonel Aquino inwardly groaned. FOB Cochise was situated far behind enemy lines as well as being the headquarters for AFO Tiger-7 and a number of Long-Range Reconnaissance Patrol & Recondo units. His brother, a Special Deputy U.S. Marshal was going to have a fit. His sister-in-law, a FEMA administrator, would skin him alive. This was not how he had planned his day. So good-bye Christmas dinner with the rest of the family. Maybe the Officer's Club would have a decent buffet this year…

He laid a reassuring hand on his niece. "We'll talk about it later, LT. No guarantees. For now consider yourself and your men restricted to quarters back at Site M. I'll personally debrief you all myself. Jenkins and Hicks are good soldiers; they'll get promotions and an award or two. Keep 'em close. Take care of yourself ok?"

Both uncle and niece briefly embraced one another. Then the lieutenant boarded the SOC-R boat as the sailors cast off into the Western Canal. She gave a half-hearted wave as Colonel Aquino made a final check of his weapons and gear.

Moments later the bid diesel engines roared into life and the boats of Special Boat Team 22 sped away towards the rally point at South Mountain Community College. Satisfied that the boats were out of danger, the commander of AFO Tiger-7 switched channels to the team's private tacnet.

"IRON FIST to team. Drop your cocks and grab your socks. It's time to do a little SSE." The colonel pulled the charging handle on his M4 carbine and made his way back into the fight. If the Intel Fusion Center back at Site M was right, Major Reyes and his staff had the Federation's entire battle-plan stored onto a Portable Encrypted Data Storage Unit (PEDSU) somewhere in the ruins of this base. MACSOG-1 needed every advantage it could beg, borrow, or steal in this dirty war. And the men of AFO Tiger-7 were going to secure that one way or another…


End file.
